


Getting There

by MoonlightEmm



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Akaashi Keiji-centric, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Background Relationships, Humor, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, author is silly and so is this, but it’s not a central topic, nice tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 16:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20312809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlightEmm/pseuds/MoonlightEmm
Summary: Had Keiji ever wondered if his life could be worse? Yes. Was life succeeding at the being worse thing? Clearly.“There was this guy taking orders, but I don’t know where he went,” and, because his dignity was not already sufficiently damaged, he added, “I think he was the man of my dreams.”———Painfully single Akaashi Keiji falls in love at a café, which is bad enough. He deals with it like he does almost everything else: obsessively.





	Getting There

This was definitely _not_ how his life was supposed to go.

Admittedly, he was relatively young, and asked too much of himself given his circumstances; but really, surely he had things complicated enough to not merit these types of situations.

In all honesty, his plans had gotten a bit derailed even before he became a walking, talking cliché. In all of Keiji’s high school dreams, by twenty-five he had already graduated, had an amazing job with health benefits which therefore allowed him to maintain a slightly stressful but extremely necessary routine, and was living in a one bedroom, sunlight-filled apartment together with a committed life partner. Possibly a fluffy cat or two. Also, he wasn’t still a virgin.

Present Keiji had an entirely different situation on his hands; he had changed majors three times already (fingers crossed that the current one actually stuck), was living with three roomates who disturbed his everyday life in all senses possible, had no life partner, no job, and no cat to speak of. Also, he was still a virgin.

For a bit of expansion on that last subject, Keiji’s done everything save for the most important one (the actual you-know-what goes you-know-where), and even though it’s great if one chooses to be a 25-year-old sort-of-virgin, it was not a life that he _himself_ wanted to lead. Sex was on Keiji’s mind almost constantly. This might have been why he fell in love with anybody with nice arms who gave him so much as a smile, as this one fucker in this one café had the nerve to actually do.

Everything had started as normally as coffee dates with friends tend to start. He got to The Left Wing late, because that was just an intrinsic fact of his person, and ordered a vanilla black tea and a blueberry muffin. He sat at his friends’ table, and talked for half an hour about how inconvenient it was to live with people as dumb as his roommates, (Futakuchi had spilled milk inside the refrigerator and while cleaning it managed to, somehow, also shatter the kitchen lamp). As his friends were a bit tired of Keiji’s Roomate Dilemma, Ennoshita provided some half-assed reassurances, as normal, and Futada insisted that he should come live with her, also as normal.

“Futada-san, while I appreciate the sentiment, I couldn´t possibly pay as much rent as you do.”

“Well, Keiji-kun, if you weren’t so stingy then maybe you could! And you’d stop complaining all the time.”

See, Keiji quite likes his friends, but they don’t generally understand where he’s coming from half the time.

Having both your parents die when you’re twenty years old leaves you with many things; a gigantic headache; enough mental instability to warrant psychological treatment; and, if you’re lucky, a nice amount of money to last you a couple of years. Keiji _was_ lucky, and therefore preferred to save it and play it safe in a world where nothing ever goes how it’s supposed to.

“It’s not me being stingy, it’s the fact that I don’t want to decimate my inheritance before I’m even 30.” Keiji said, a bit mad, as he got up to go get another muffin, (they were really good pastries and Keiji was a weak man who therefore went through them _fast_).

“Ok, ok. You’re right,” Futada sighed, rolling her eyes. “Can you get me another cocoa? I’m all out.”

The café was full. Rush hour full, even though it was not even four in the afternoon, and nothing of popular interest was going on nearby. Keiji was sidling up to the counter five minutes later, his plate and Futada’s cash in hand, ready to order, when he was left promptly speechless. Well, not really, because as we’ve already established, Akaashi Keiji is, in fact, a cliché, but not one of such magnitude. Regardless, he did have trouble hearing the employee’s greeting, but that was much better and way more manageable.

Only, he needed to say something. Like, now.

Keiji, _now_, oh my god.

The guy was still staring, beautifully condescending grin in place. He was so hot, holy shit.

“Yeah- yes. Could I get a blueberry muffin and uh, a chocolate? HOT. Hot chocolate. Please.”

Not a cliché my ass.

The guy lifted an eyebrow and his grin grew; he was definitely holding back a laugh, the asshole. He had dimples. Keiji’s head hurt.

“One muffin and a chocolate, hot. Coming right up.” Keiji wanted to die. “Here’s your muffin, and the other in the next counter over. That’ll be, uh, wait a second, let me see… 940 yen, card or cash?”

Having paid, not without a bit of fumbling because life just wasn’t fair like that, and waiting at the pickup line, Keiji stared at the guy. He was tall, and hot, and he had a very weird hairstyle, which implied he either slept with his hair wet or took a lot of effort into actually making it look like that. His teeth were perfect, his dimples were on full display and he scrunched his eyes all cute like when he laughed like so, and- wait a minute. He was laughing?

Keiji’s smitten mood plummeted in the few seconds it took him to make sense of the scene. In front of Hot-Employee-san stood a very cute strawberry blonde girl, who, by the looks of it, had had the same realization as Keiji when coming up to the counter, but was handling it in a much smoother manner.

All things considered, the queer population of Keiji’s college had grown exponentially over the last couple years, but it was still a huge stretch to assume the guys he tended to be into were gay. Or at least swinged his way. If we were to take into account the way he was very obviously flirting with Cute-Costumer-chan, the logical conclusion is he’s probably as straight as they come.

It was truly a shame. This guy had “Akaashi Keiji’s dream partner” practically tattooed on his forehead.

Somebody at the counter called his order, and Keiji didn’t miss the curious once-over they gave him, but the café really was full, so neither paid each other much mind.

Which is why, sitting back at the table, he shouldn’t have been surprised when Futada started laughing like a hyena. “Oh my god, Keiji-kun. Did you see this?” She angled her cup towards him. “‘Chocolate, hot, for the guy, also hot.’”

Holy shit.

Keiji’s face was suddenly very interested in simulating the color of kanikama, or a very ripe tomato. “Who gave you this? Was it shorty? She’s cute!” All three friends turned to look at the counter, where, in place of tall, dark and handsome, stood a small thing with the name of Yachi, who was normally the one who managed the counter.

Ennoshita very helpfully remarked, “Nah, don’t think so. That’s Yachi, she’s way too afraid of him to even try.” while Keiji did his best owl impression and searched all over the café, not finding he who was soon to be the star of his spank bank fodder. 

Had Keiji ever wondered if his life could be worse? Yes. Was life succeeding at the whole being worse thing? Clearly. Sinking back into his chair, he said, “No. There was this guy taking orders, but I don’t know where he went,” and, because his dignity was not sufficiently damaged, he added “I think he was the man of my dreams.”. An attempt at reeling in the dramatics was made, but not a very convincing one, at that. 

Consumed by misery, and with his so-called-friends’ laughter as soundtrack, he ate his second muffin painfully fast. At this rate he might have to go get a third one; they were truly wonderful, and Keiji had a tendency to deal with emotions through his stomach.

———

Roughly six months passed after the incident, and Keiji hadn’t thought about the tall guy in the café for the best part of them. No way. He also hadn’t corraled Yachi after her shift to ask after him, and he hadn’t been slapped by her girlfriend for standing too close and being too menacing, and he hadn’t installed a self-imposed ban on The Left Wing because he felt extremely embarrassed and also poor Yachi. Also, he hadn’t gone back after a couple months, after he randomly encountered the girl on the street and, thanks to a very heartfelt apology on his part, she had told him that everything was fine, she was just super rattled that day, and had also apologized profusely. Turns out she really didn’t know who Keiji was talking about because nobody who worked there fit the description he gave, except maybe he meant Tsukishima? (No, because Hot-Employee-san was not blonde, and also an alliance with Tsukishima would provide enough mean-spiritedness to scorn the entirety of Japan’s population, roughly, and he was trying to be a nicer person.) Yachi was really very sorry she couldn’t be of more assistance, but they could maybe put up a few posters, see if that helps?

In summary, he had not put up the posters, for obvious reasons, but he did actually resume his semi-frequent trips to the café with no guilt whatsoever, because Keiji is strong in the face of many things, but not pastries. Especially not the ones at The Left Wing. Keiji had, during his six-months ban, had at least _seven_ nightmares in which somebody taunted him with the offer of one of those godly, golden, buttery croissants while he’s gagged and tied to a chair, and the sheer agony of not being able to eat them woke him up in the middle of the night in a sweat.

Returning to his weekly café trips brought with the unrestrained consumption of baked goods, but still no sign of the stranger.

Keiji was furious. He went through all the stages of grief in under two months, and if he had just paid attention at the time his poetry journals would not be half-filled with really embarrassing heartsick ramblings his roommates could find and make fun of him for. A chance encounter like that won't happen ever again, especially for complete recluse and olympic scowler Akaashi Keiji. (Although, if we’re being honest, he might get a medal in that category but Kageyama definitely takes the gold.)

So, anyway, this is his life now; no cat; no partner, especially not one with dimples and grins and raised eyebrows; a job but no health benefits; and still living with roommates. At least he's doing well in University, this time around.

Keiji thinks that the only good thing to have come out of the whole ordeal is his newfound friendship with Yachi. Also with her girlfriend, although he is still a bit afraid of her, which is normal in the sense that it’s expected for gods like her to instill such fright in mere mortals like him.

Right now, he’s headed to Yachi’s birthday party.

Weird on two accounts: firstly, Keiji isn’t one to make close friends easily, and secondly, they really did just see each other only once a week. More if he was genuinely stressed, (the wonders of stress eating). He believes that, probably, Yachi is just the kind of person who’s friends with everybody.

She told him she was, quote un-quote, having just a small thing with friends, but when he gets past the threshold and into the actual apartment, nothing about this seems small. There’s two very loud guys singing very loud karaoke in one corner (“Former teammates” Yachi explains); people jumping on the couch, for some reason; not one but _two_ televisions; and what seems to be an arm wrestling tournament going on in the back. Keiji doesn’t know what to think, he's not built for rambunctious.

He gingerly deposits his token gift (an average wine bottle) in the living room table already filled to the brim with booze and mixers, and grabs a glass of beer to start off safe. He circles the apartment twice after Yachi leaves him to serve as referee in the tournament, but he doesn’t find anyone he knows so he resigns to his fate to standing quietly next to Shimizu, who’ll makes him flinch a bit, but only internally. Keiji might be a mere mortal but his impassive face has said to rival even the most horrible professors when being asked for an extension on a due date. Plus, he’d like to think they're somewhat kindred spirits, what with the whole ”stoic appearance” thing they have going on. 

“Akaashi-kun, nice of you to come. Are you enjoying yourself?”, she asks.

“Thanks for having me. I am, but you’re the first person I actually know.”, he replies.

They’re both leaning against the wall, and she looks as regal and composed as always, with hair so straight it could cut men’s fingers and a glass of wine in one hand. “Yes, I know,” she says, ”Hitoka-chan tends to get pretty excited when she has all her friends together, and I can’t say no even though they usually end up destroying my house.” At this, her nose scrunches a bit and her eyebrows furrow, looking at the karaoke players who have now joined in on the couch-jumping. “You’d think that at 25 they’d learn how to behave, but clearly not.”

Keiji laughs. “Yachi-san said that they were teammates?”

“We all met in high school; we were both the volleyball club’s managers. They’re my friends too, but sometimes…” she sighs, “Excuse me for a second.” She pushes away from the wall, and says in a very calm but very unnerving voice, “Tanaka-kun, please step away from my books.”

Keiji smiles while he watches the scene unfold, a bald guy who he guesses is Tanaka jumping almost half a meter in the air and shouting, “Kiyoko-saaaaaan, I swear it wasn’t me!”. He is still holding one of Shimizu’s giant psychology textbooks.

“So, where do I know you from?”

Keiji turns to the voice at his back. He's suddenly very grateful for his amazing poker face, which hasn’t decided to fail him just yet.

“I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re Keiji-kun, right? Friend of Kenma’s?”

Keiji doesn’t think he can hold on any longer. The guy he’s been dreaming about for a year, all of him tall, hot and perfect, and he decides to just go on ahead and come talk to him at a random party like its nothing. Keiji’s a strong, independent man but, like, don’t hold him to that.

“It’s Akaashi. Akaashi Keiji.”

“Okay, Akaashi-kun, where do I know you from? Im not trying to be rude or anything, but, well… Have we had sex?”

We can definitely take the perfect away from his title, then. “What?” Keiji asks, very eloquently, “No?” His voice really did decide to jump like that at the end, huh? This is exactly why he doesn’t go out.

“Oh, shit, sorry. It’s just, you’re a friend of my boyfriend’s, and I try not to have sex with any of his friends and your face is very hard to forget but maybe we did the do and I was drunk or something and I wanted to clear the air in case, y’know, and-“

This is the thing; generally, when one misses the opportunity of a lifetime that is meeting the perfect guy at a café, one does not really think one’ll see them again. And Keiji had hoped, yeah, and had to resort to lying to his psychologist because in actuality no, he hadn’t gotten over him yet, I know, Shikari-sensei. But this? Never could he have imagined this. Boyfriend? Sex? Very hard to forget face? SEX??

The guy is still talking. “-really I’m so sorry and now you’re all quiet and your eyes are so big holy shit, I don't-“

“Kuro, you’re scaring him.”

“I was trying not to, I swear! But he went silent on me and now I don’t know!”

At least this is progress. Kenma, he knows. Kenma is safe to look at, safe to talk to (at least after midday and/or a nice breakfast), Kenma is safe to focus on. He had joined the conversation unbeknownst to Keiji, possibly whilst he himself was doing his very accomplished tarsier impression. Such majestic animals.

“What?” Keiji asks, very eloquently, again.

“Kenma, I swear I wasn’t being creepy or anything!”

“You’re always creepy. Keiji, hi, sorry about him.”

“Oh, come on...”

“Shut up, Kuro. Was he being weird?”

Understatement of the year. “No, I mean… It was just, unexpected, I guess.”.

“Sorry anyway. This is Kuroo,” Kenma starts.

“Your boyfriend,” apparently-Kuroo adds. And oh, well, by this point in the conversation Keiji was sure his plan to find Hot-Employee-san, fall madly in love, get a cute apartment and try to deal with homophobic neighbors for the rest of his life is ruined. Actually, scratch that; his plan was ruined the moment Kuroo opened his mouth, but confirmation still hurts his pride a little bit.  
Kenma sighs, “Reluctantly, but yeah.”

Keiji, as previously mentioned, is a strong , independent man, so he can fight his battles for himself. He just generally needs at least two days notice to know he’s going to go into one. But he’s calmed down now. “Hello, Kuroo-san, nice to meet you. To answer your question, no, we did not. And if you’re planning on introducing yourself to a lot of people, I suggest you try to start with a more ordinary conversation starter.” Yep, Keiji’s mental faculties are back, full swing.

Kuroo lifts an eyebrow and grins. This is very quickly going from the_ ‘I want to lick that eyebrow’_ it was half-a-year ago to _‘what a pain in the ass’_. “Oh, she’s feisty,” he says. Keiji has never wanted to punch somebody so much in his entire life. And he lives with Futakuchi Kenji, for god’s sake.

Kenma, the only sane one even though he’s in a relationship with an idiot, sighs and covers his face. “When you’re done being annoying come find me, I’ll be with Shoyou. See you, Keiji.”

On Keiji’s list of “Awkward Situations That Make Me Want To Fall Asleep And Then Never Wake Up”, being left alone with Kuroo doesn’t even qualify. Yes, it’s awkward, and yes, if Keiji fiddles any more with his beer glass it’ll probably fall down to the floor, but since he stopped idolizing him in his head and found out Kuroo’s hotness is probably the only good quality he has going for him, it’s just the normal glass-fiddling awkwardness that comes with not knowing a person and having to hold a conversation with them. This has nothing on the time Keiji went to give back the university camera he had borrowed and the librarian was very clearly making out with Keiji’s English professor. Let us not even mention that time he walked in on his parents.

“So, uh. To be honest, you did try to pick me up at a café in, March, perhaps? You wrote something on my cup.” If they’re both trying for even footing, they might as well, you know, actually try.

“Oh? I wrote something? On your cup?” Kuroo’s scratching his chin like he doesn’t remember, and Keiji’s internal counter labeled “Reasons to kill this human being” is escalating again. How many pick-up attempts via coffee cup has he _made_?

“Yeah,” Keiji tries, “you were working the counter, y’know, and –“

“I was working? At a café?” Keiji is getting more exasperated by the millisecond.

“Oh my god, yes! You were working and I didn’t see my cup until you were gone, and Yachi was back working the counter, it was at The Left-“

“Oh! Daichi’s café!” How many times is this guy planning to fucking INTERRUPT him? 23 more reasons on Keiji’s counter, right there. “Yeah, I remember! I don’t work there, but I was visiting some friends and they were severely understaffed, and they asked me to help out for a bit. You were the hot chocolate dude, right?” And the grin makes an annoying appearance again.

“Well, for the record, you are really hot. I wouldn’t have minded if we actually had ended up having sex.”

“Oh my god,” and that is now the second time Keiji begins a sentence with ‘_Oh my god_’. If his severely compromised linguistic capacities aren’t a testament to this guy’s ability to get on his nerves, maybe the scowl now in place on his face will do the trick. “Don’t you have a boyfriend to bother?”

“He’s my husband.”

“Huh?”

“Kenma’s my husband.”

“I thought he was your boyfriend.”

“Details, details. We’ll be married by this time next year, if I have my way.” Is he serious? Is he honestly serious right now? “But yes, actually, I should go. Nice meeting you, Keiji-kun.”

“Akaashi.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you around.” And with that goodbye and a grin in place, he turns and walks away.

Oh, well; it was nice being attracted to you while it lasted, Keiji’s-dream-man-san.

“I can’t believe I spent six months of my life masturbating to that,” Keiji mutters.

“Oh, wow. TMI, dude.” He is so done with random people suddenly appearing at his back. He still turns around. “But yeah, we’ve all been there, bro, Kuroo’s hot.”

Kuroo’s-hot person is leaning on the wall to his right, smiling and holding a glass of what, judging from the smell, appears to be some _very_ fruity vodka.

Keiji needs another beer. Possibly the vodka the guys’s holding.

He has three seconds to judge the amount of socializing he has remaining in his system, and even though he’s a bit irked and this new guy seems like he needs a _lot_ of energy to be dealt with, Keiji figures he’s still polite enough to offer conversation to a stranger and also to not leave the party after like, barely an hour.

“Did you just say TMI out loud?” He never said the conversation had to be civil.

“You’re fun. I’m Bokuto. Koutarou.” Apparently-we’ve-all-masturbated-to-Kuroo Bokuto, or Koutarou, bows a little, bordering on nice manners if he hadn’t just spilled some of his drink on the floor. Keiji bows back.

“Which one?”

“Both. Whichever. I don’t know, man, don’t look at me like that! You look like Shimizu that time I spilled kinetic sand on her couch. All intimidating-like.” Shit, kinetic sand is a bitch to get out of corduroy. But maybe Keiji _is_ staring all intimidating-like. Again, he just got out of a conversation with Kuroo. Blame him, I dare you.

“Sorry, it’s just-“ let’s-call-him-Bokuto takes a sip of his drink, and Keiji uses the moment to gulp down half of his. Bokuto’s eyes widen. “I need like 4 croissants and a cheesecake, maybe some salmon onigiri,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “Akaashi Keiji, nice to meet you.” Bokuto steps away from the wall, and Keiji lifts an eyebrow.

“Akashi, do you like cupcakes?”

———

“Kuro… Where’s Keiji?”

“He’s fun, I like him.”

“You were totally annoying him.”

“Was not.”

“Were too.”

“Was not!”

  
“Were too.”

———

After a hazardous trip in which they almost get jumped on, get actually jumped on (by a very tiny thing with red hair), and procure a glass of wine for Keiji (the situation has escalated, fuck starting off safe.) and more of the fruity vodka (which turns out to be half a glass of vodka, half a glass of lime soda, and a whole packet of instant juice powder) for Bokuto, they arrive in the kitchen. Bokuto slowly and quietly closes the door, even though neither one of those things is necessary, given the music and the raucous crowd outside.

Suddenly, and with a jolt, Keiji realizes that this has turned from ‘let’s go to the kitchen’ to ‘let’s go to the kitchen, _alone_’.

Never one to panic, he decides there a few possible outcomes for this situation:

  * Option A: Bokuto’s into him and this was all just a ruse to get him alone.
  * Option B: Bokuto’s into him and this was a ruse to get him alone, but the cupcakes are real.
  * Option C: Bokuto’s not into him, the cupcakes are real, and he’s just a kind soul.
  * Option D: He’s thinking too much again and this can go many, many ways, Keiji, because people are not as simple as that.

Quick search of the counters reveals no cupcakes, but there’s always the fridge, and- “Do you like chocolate or vanilla? The vanilla ones have blueberry buttercream and the chocolate ones have caramel inside. There’s also brown sugar ones but those are Yacchan’s favorites so I’d rather save them for her to try first.” Bokuto says, refrigerator door open and half turned to look at Akaashi over his shoulder.

Option D it is, then.

“Are you sure this is okay? I don’t enjoy the idea of taking food out of someone’s fridge.” So polite, Keiji. _Keiji_. Akaashi Keiji, if you really meant that, you wouldn’t be looking at the cupcakes like _that_.

“Yeah! I’m sure! Don’t worry about it!” Bokuto’s huge grin burning itself into his retinas, Keiji is just about to agree to having one when,

“Bokuto. Close. That. Door.”.

Both culprit and culprit-by-proxy turn to look at the newcomer, a guy with close-cropped black hair and a scowl to rival Kageyama’s, if Kageyama were older and wiser and scarier, and possibly spent all his winter holidays in a buddhist temple in the Himalayas.

“D-Daichi! Long time no see! How are you?! How’s the party, man?”

“Shut up,” possible-buddhist-monk-but-like-villanous says, closing the kitchen door behind him. “I leave you alone for two minutes and you’re already stealing food.” Bokuto looks affronted, and Daichi finally turns to Keiji, and realizes there’s another person in the room. “Hello! Sawamura Daichi, Bokuto’s partner.” And _ooooh_, that makes sense.

“Akaashi Keiji.”

“Don’t say it like that! He’s my business partner! Not my partner partner! We own a café together!” And _oooooh_, but in, like, the opposite direction? Sawamura’s now grinning viciously with his arms crossed, and Keiji didn’t want to die today but if those biceps Daichi’s sporting even go near his body he might, and he doesn’t want to bank his chances on Bokuto standing up for him were Keiji in trouble because, while he might also have very, _very_ big arms (how is he just now noticing this?!), Sawamura is his business? partner, and if Keiji were asked to side with either his best friend Ennoshita or a dude he just met (and it's happened) who, might we add, doesn’t have a single fighting bone in his body, he would definitely side with his friend. So, yeah. Keiji doesn’t want to die.

“Sorry, it’s my fault,” he says. “I was very hungry and Bokuto-san was kind enough to help me get something to eat.”

“Kind enough, huh.” Certainly, if predatory animals, when hunting, put on the same face Sawamura is making right now, their preys would just offer themselves up for the slaughter out of sheer terror. Bokuto looks like a particularly fearful gazelle, right about now. Not that he bears any resemblance to a gazelle, he actually looks much more like an owl, what with the hair and all, but owls are also birds of prey and that would blow Keiji’s analogy to pieces. “Bokuto-san was _kind_ enough.”

Bokuto turns impossibly red and stutters a small “Daichi, come on…”. He is really very, very red, and some things have started to make sense for Keiji. He lets out a small laugh, almost at the same time as Daichi does, but Bokuto doesn’t stare at Daichi like he’s staring at Keiji, so yes, many things are starting to make sense. Let nothing ever be said for his mental and deductive prowess; formulating options is a very valid form of coping with uncertainty, take _that_, Shikari-sensei.

Daichi looks between the two of them, says “Two cupcakes and that’s it,” and leaves the kitchen. Keiji is still reeling from how fast his face went from ‘I’m going to eat you and your entire family alive’ to ‘make good choices, kids’. He guesses it’s thanks to all the Himalayan temple vacations, or something.

———

They decide not to venture out of the kitchen for fear of a stampede if people were to see them holding sweets, so they just stay inside while waiting for the cupcakes to warm. Keiji’s by no means a food snob, but Bokuto whined non-stop that cupcakes weren’t good immediately out of the fridge, Akaaaashi, and that he meant to take them out 13 minutes before to avoid the human body heat in the house melting all the buttercream.

Looking back, such care and consideration for baked goods should have been a huge flag, but Keiji was too busy trying not to eat the cupcakes right then and there and also trying (and failing) not to stare at Bokuto’s chest while he sat on the counter to pay much mind. The latter was proving to be more difficult than the former (said chest was at eye level), and, coupled with Bokuto’s huge grin and weird yellow-brown eyes doing that thing were one eyelid was lower than the other, Keiji’s brain was working overtime. Also, when did he become the type of person to notice eye color on somebody he just met? For god’s sake.

Keiji had chosen a vanilla cupcake, and he didn’t regret his decision when, after starting to eat, Bokuto’s teeth were full of chocolate stains. It was still endearing, though. Keiji was not a very caregiving person by nature, but Bokuto was more like a very dumb, very lovable dog one just can’t help but smile at and want to cuddle. Also, this comparing people to animals thing is getting old.

After two very stressful situations, Keiji is ready to eat whatever food comes his way. Sure, there were probably snacks outside, but he felt that pairing salty food like that with a vanilla and blueberry cupcake would be distasteful, at the least. The same couldn’t be said of Bokuto, who was consuming quite animatedly his chocolate cupcake while drinking that melt-your-teeth-off sweet monster of a drink he had prepared. How was he not drunk already?

The cupcake in itself was delicious, velvety and moist and all other adjectives that can describe beauty in the form of a mini sponge cake, but he was kind of sad that it wasn’t lemon and blueberry, his favorite combination in the whole world. For sweets, at least. Bokuto explained that lemon is not something that everybody likes, and in the case of a birthday party, one must try to appeal to the masses. Flag number two, right there.

Trying to not be impolite while demolishing his treat, Keiji asks, “So, a café? That’s nice.” Bokuto visibly perks up, if perking up even more is possible when you’re already 101% Perk, and replies, “Yeah! It’s so cool! Many people ask how, because we’re kind of young. I’m 26, just. If, you were-,” he coughs, “wondering. So yeah, anyway. It was a cake shop, before, and Daichi’s uncle owned it but he retired a few years back and he left it to us. I used to work there, that’s how Daichi and I met. When we got it we made it into a café, because Daichi said it would be nicer and he knew I didn’t want to bake only cakes my entire life. Also he needed something to do.” He laughs, and it kind of masks the sound of Keiji choking on his last piece of cupcake. Bokuto realizes this and slaps him in the back, and why, god? Why?

Still coughing a bit, Keiji asks, “You bake?”.

“Yeah! Who do you think made these? I do the baking and Daichi does, well… Everything else, I guess.” Bokuto says, scratching his head. “But he’s kinda bad with numbers, so I do the whole financing part, and he does inventory and things like that. Taxes we do together because those are not fun.”

Keiji wants to die. Keiji wants to lay on this here floor and die. Bokuto _bakes. _Bokuto has a café and does _taxes_.

“You do not happen to own The Left Wing, do you?”

“Yeah! That’s it, Akaash’, that’s it! How’d you know?!” Bokuto’s grin was reaching sun levels.

“And you do not happen to do all the baking yourself? You have helpers, right?”

“No, I do it all myself! Daichi says I should get some people to help but I like the- Eh, Akaagshi! What’s wrong? You’re really pale!”

“… please marry me, Bokuto-san.”

”Ok, I will! But please have some water first!!”

———

All in all, Keiji’s life had improved considerably.

He was freshly 26, had only a year and a half to go until graduation, had gotten a really nice promotion at work, and was still living with his dumb roommates but spent the majority of his time at his boyfriend’s place, who, by a miracle of the universe (Keiji suspected cosmic powers were trying to remedy all the wrongs they had caused him throughout his life), had not only one, but _two_ fluffy kittens. (“They were brothers, Akaash’, I couldn’t separate them!” Bokuto had said, hugging one cat in each —very muscular— arm. Keiji had promptly fainted.) Also, he wasn’t a virgin anymore, in case you were wondering.

Kuroo-san was still a pain in the ass, though.

**Author's Note:**

> Keiji is not stingy! He’s just trying his best and keeping himself safe for the next few years! He changes majors three times, and I had already researched too much for this fic to try to understand how japanese universities work, but my guess is that it’s programs instead of majors. Either way, he did biochemistry, photography and now he’s doing industrial design. This one he actually likes a lot.  
Also, if you haven’t noticed, this is extremely self indulgent because Keiji is kind of, well, me. So if my Keiji is a bit ooc, it might be true, but I REFUSE to believe Keiji is a one-dimensional character, and he might be quiet and stoic in the outside, but he’s also incredibly funny and overdramatic on the inside and that’s Canon, so that’s how I choose to see him :)  
Kuroo is actually part of my wall of inspirational characters (proverbial, my proverbial wall) but I had to make him a bit of a bastard to go with the story. As if he’s not bastard enough.  
Alternative titles were: “Taunt Meister Kuroo” and “The Idle Fleeting Thought That He Was A ... Baker... Crossed My Mind”.
> 
> I hope this counts for Haikyuu!! Day, but the upload date is purely coincidental!
> 
> Please look up what a tarsier looks like, I cry every time
> 
> You can find me on twitter [here](http://www.twitter.com/boffs9) or on tumblr [here](http://www.deleble.tumblr.com).


End file.
